


pitcher, catcher

by mellowly



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Boys Being Boys, Boys In Love, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Relationship Discussions, Some Plot, Teen Romance, safe sex, silly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 14:57:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13954041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellowly/pseuds/mellowly
Summary: george is leaving for college.alfred and he share one last memory.(or: how to get the boy.)





	pitcher, catcher

**Author's Note:**

> woohoo for nz/us! woohoo for silly high school aus!
> 
> names used  
> america: alfred  
> new zealand: george
> 
> written for a friend. you know who you are.

**somewhere in california, march, 2018**

* * *

 

“We should do it.”

“What?”

The room is quiet, and Alfred’s just finished his can of coke. 

“We should fuck,” he George’s soft reply from where he’s sitting on the bed, back against the headboard and not looking at his book anymore. They’d arrived at Alfred’s house shy and excited and holding hands, sweaty after the game; young, in love, and with limited time. They haven’t spoken about it. Not seriously. Not this.  
It’s gone eleven. They’re home alone.

“What? Really? You wanna-“

“I wanna have sex with you, yes. We could. We- We don’t _have_ to,” he adds, much too quick.

Alfred blinks, and then gets up. 

“Yeah. Okay. We can, yeah.”

Putting on false confidence is totally worth it for the glowing look George’s eyes take on.

“Then come here,” he says, not even marking his page in the book as he plops it on the nightstand. His boyfriend lies back on the comforter. and Alfred thinks he’s the luckiest guy in the entire fucking world.

He hardly catches George’s soft _kiss me_  before their mouths touch, his hands already up to caress the sides of his face, heart hammering with the re-re-realization that they’re about to do this.

He kisses him like the world is ending (it kinda is, it really is, George is leaving for Auckland on Friday and God he’s lucky to have this to remember for lazy wanks in the shower, alone, at college, a few months from now), and George is touching him, with intent, running his hands up Alfred’s sides to clutch at his arms. Alfred pulls away and kisses his jaw, his cheeks, all of him, he wants to take in all of George before he’s gone - and besides. He won’t be that dick who doesn’t do foreplay right.

All the magazines he’s read talk about doing this to girls, so he doesn’t have a lot to go off, but touching his chest certainly brings good results, as does gently nipping at his neck: George is already breathing heavily beneath him. Gaining courage, he skims his hands over those slender hips to his thighs, soft thighs he’s grown used to in his lap, but now-

They part willingly beneath his touch, and Alfred feels all the blood that previously occupied his brain make a hasty retreat for his dick.

“Sweet Jesus,” he mutters, because they’ve been making out for like ten minutes and George’s cute teal leggings already have a wet spot on the front and Alfred might die. He kisses him again, and again, wet and heavy and so hot- until George makes a pained noise and he has to sit up and remove his glasses. 

George thumbs at the edge of his t-shirt, so he goes and removes it too, letting him touch and see. 

“You’ve got- You’ve got condoms and shit, right?” George is surprisingly straightforward. 

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve, um, I’ve got lube,” he replies, feeling his face go red. “But. No condoms.”

They pause. 

“We can wait,” he mutters, just as George grins lazily at him.

“You’re darn lucky then, loverboy, cause I picked up some.”  
Alfred raises an eyebrow. “You totally planned this, didn’t you.”

It’s George’s turn to go red, and look away, which presents his pale neck for Alfred to suck a hickey into, and they mess around some more. His hands on George’s ass, George’s hands in his hair, they roll over so George is straddling him and suddenly he feels just how hard he is through his jeans. 

“I’ll get ‘em,” George mutters against his mouth, and then he’s gone to rummage through his school bag, cheerfully presenting a condom from the back pocket - the kind the student council’s been handing out all semester.

“You _so_ planned this.”

“Shut up.”

 

From there it’s a hurried blur of warmth and love. George’s hands in his hair. His mouth on George’s breastbone, then his stomach, then his thighs. They toss the comforter aside; George’s hair fanned out n the pillow in a curling mess, the rise and fall of his chest, his smile that turns into an open mouthed gasp when Alfred kind of sucks his dick on impulse.

“Holy _shit_ , Alfred, _ah_ -“

This is enjoyable. This is nice. It takes some trying and failing to find the right way to position themselves, but in the end good old missionary is the way to go. Alfred finds that his head is swimming with affection when he comes to lie between George’s legs, kissing him in a leisurely way that doesn’t quite compute with the fact that he’s got two fingers in his ass. He thinks he hears George murmur in Maori against his neck, and whispers back, soft things he doesn’t know how to say except right now, in the dim of his bedroom lit only by the desk lamp shaped like the moon. He’s so in love he aches, but that might also just be arousal.

The condom, thank God, is intact and perfect, and when George helps him roll it on with that funny wrinkled-nose focused face of his Alfred can’t help but kiss all over his cheeks and laugh. 

It feels good to laugh. Safe and real, as if they’re still just two high school boys and not about to lose their virginities to each other.

George says _holy fucking shit_  when he pushes in, which is both charming and very funny, and Alfred pauses when he winces and touches his face, his soft skin, resting on one elbow above him. George kisses him, and again, and cants his hips up in a movement that sets all of Alfred’s skin on fire.

The first time George moans, he swears he’s never gonna fuck anyone else, _ever_.

“Wow,” he mutters to nobody in particular as he bottoms out, feeling the squeeze of George’s body around him and the warmth of his skin where they touch almost head to toe.

“Mm. ’S good. You’re good,” George replies, his breath picking up when Alfred starts actually moving, slowly to keep from hurting him. They keep going slow. Gentle. A car horn sounds in the distance- The clock on Alfred’s bedside table has passed midnight. But then again, he really fucking doesn’t care about the outside world because George is kissing him and they’ve having sex for real and it’s a lot nicer than he’d thought it’d be; warm and wet and a little slippery but so good, and he braces his knees in the mattress and pushes up-

The sound George makes should be entirely illegal and he wants to hear it again a thousand times. 

“Was that your-“

“Hell yeah, it was.”

George tips his head back, and Alfred keeps the position he’s holding and screws him slowly into the bedsheets, taking in his soft sounds and the feel of him pliant beneath him. His thighs are starting to ache but it’s a good ache, the kind he wants to feel for days.   
"Fuck, _babe_ -"

He's making little keens beneath him, and Alfred wraps his arms around his waist and they speed up, just grinding together with no real rhythm or aim beyond pleasure; Alfred hooks a hand around George’s thigh and pulls it up, tugging him closer, closer, and they’re so warm, and suddenly George arches up and shivers and climaxes right there in his arms, and the sight and feel of it alone is enough to make him press his forehead against the pillow and rock into him in short little thrusts as he comes with him, gasping out in ecstasy. It’s easily the hottest thing ever, and the longest orgasm Alfred’s had in his entire life. 

 

They tangle together. George is lazily stroking his bicep.

“So,” he says, breathless, in that lilting accent of his.

“Yeah,” Alfred replies, feeling all tingly and warm.

“That was good. Like, really good, I’m- I thought it’d be all awkward and hurting y’know they say…”

“Mmyeah. Was good.”

The silence is a comfortable one, and Alfred busies himself with kissing at George’s shoulder.

“I wonder if your sister is gonna kill me,” he suddenly chuckles, and Alfred snorts.

“Nah. My brother might. He’s like. All protective and shit.”

“Yeah nah, he’s fucking around with that scary Russian guy from the uhh… The private school. Y’know.”

“What!? No. You’re kidding.”  
  
“Nuh uh. I have eyes that I use, Alfred.”

“I’m calling bullshit. _Total bullshit_.”

“Well don’t go and check now, we only just fucked,” George giggles.

“Yeah. I’ll miss you.”

Silence for a beat.

“I gave up my spot, you know.”

“ _What_ -” Alfred inhales.

“I gave up my spot. Scholarship’s going to someone else.”

“You’re. _Kidding_. Right?”

George only laughs and squeezes his thighs around him, and Alfred feels dizzier than ever.

“I’m going to Princeton. With you. Social sciences,” he explains breathily, and Alfred cannot believe his ears. 

“To- To Princeton. You actually… You actually-“

“Got in? Yeah. I gave up my spot at Victoria, cause. Cause-“ He pauses. Alfred wants to sit up, and see him, but also doesn’t wanna move in fear of disturbing this moment. “Cause I wanna move in with you. Like- After college. I wanna stay with you. I don’t wanna go to some dickass school in Wellington when my boyfriend’s going to Princeton.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, we’ll move in together. We can do that. Some day.”

“Some day.”


End file.
